A Psychic's Control
by InferiorWoman
Summary: The sorrority demanded more of Juliette than everyone knew - except Shawn, who has photogrpahic evidence he's willing to use it his advantage. Eventually, it becomes clear that this is just another one of the psychic's natural talents. Warnings for rape


Detective Juliette O'Hara knew she did what she had to. Infiltrating that sorrority was vital to catching a killer, and any so-caled _hazing_ was just an inconvinience. I mean, the naked line up was not exactly a confidence booster – some of those teen girls had bigger boobs and more perfect curves than her – and the things her hazers said helped none. Skinny dips, nude housecleaning, objects shoved in orfaces … it seemed everything those girls did revolved around sexual degradation, culminating in the final test: Giving a blindfolded blow job to a member of the brother fraternity.

But she had made it in. She had caught the killer – with help, as usual. The chief was proud of her, and no one knew what she really went through.

Or so she thought.

Cute, ridiculous, and charming Shawn Spencer hit pause on the VCR as the teen boy sprayed her half-covered face. He grinned his usual grin at her, but now the context seemed so different. Dimly, Juliette remembered that someone had recorded the events with a digital camera, but Shawn must have found a way to rip it onto an analog tape simply because he thought it looked cooler. She didn't believe for a moment it was the only copy.

"Listen, Shawn, what you saw there. It was –"

"I know what it was. Jules, you don't have to explain." He stood up from the table he had been sitting on and approached her, the concerned and understanding Shawn she knew. "It was your first time undercover. You had to make it count. I bet, if everyone saw this video, they would all understand too."

Julliette nearly panicked. "No, Shawn, you can't show that anyone – not ever!"

"I'd say. Especially as this happy young man was an early enroller into college. My psychic senses tell me he was seventeen when you let him paint your face like that."

Juliette went cold. If that video ever came out, she wouldn't just be ridiculed and lucky to keep her job. She'd be fired and lucky to avoid jail. How was she supposed to know? It didn't matter, in the eyes of the law.

Shawn now stood directly next to her, their hips and shoulders brushing. Juliette wanted to pull away, but an instinct – perhaps a low-level psychic one from being around Shawn so much – kept her rooted in place.

"Why do you think sorrority girls can't wait to take each other's clothes off?" Shawn mused. "They can't all be lesbians or bi."

Juliette thought the longer she spoke, the longer she delayed where she thought this was heading. "It was to make us trust each other … in all our endeavors."

"Was one of your endeavors to be campus sluts?"

Juliette didn't answer, too busy holding back tears upon hearing such words come from her friend's mouth. As a matter of fact, they did have a quota of guys they had to fuck each semester, but Juliette hadn't hung around long enough for that to matter. She hadn't sunk _that_ low.

Though, as the screen now showed, she had sunk quite low.

Shawn leaned into Juliette's ear to whisper, "What do you think the Chief would do if she saw this?"

Juliette somehow resisted sobbing. She knew from his tone of voice, so different from his usual friendly and zany attitude, what he wanted.

"J-just do it."

"Do what?"

"Tell me what you want."

Shawn didn't take long to consider this. He put his arm around her waist, teasing her without making it outright sexual. He was drawing it out, forcing her to make the conclusions.

He said, "First, I want you to thank me."

"Thank you?" She was already scared enough to try to keep the incredulity from her voice. He was already acting so different; how did she know he didn't have a violent side?

"Yes, gratitude, for starting this in the privacy of my home, instead of, say, Gus's place or the Psych office. You know I could have done this anywhere."

Juliette knew she should have felt outrage, but instead she thought about how right he was. He could have risked doing it in the police station, where anyone could have seen what she did. He would have a dozen explanations for his actions, while she … would have none.

Shocked that she actually meant it, Juliette said, "Thank you, Shawn."

"Ah, yes, rule one is always thank me for giving you orders. Rule two is whenever we are alone, you call me Master."

There was the outrage she wanted. "What? I won't do that!"

And then came the violent side she feared. She hadn't even seen the psychic's hand move across her face before it hit with surprising force, knocking her to the ground.

"Now you'll have to explain that mark," Shawn noted. "I, of course, lost myself to passion when I learned you were happy with your actions on this video, while you're still a sex offender."

Juliette stared up at him, cheek burning, and tried to think of a way out of this. There wasn't one. Still trembling on the floor, she complied.

"Yes, Master."

"Thank me for disciplining you."

"Thank you, Master, for punishing me."

Shawn subtly tapped his belt buckle. "Now show me your gratitude, like you did to that boy."

A blowjob. That's all he wanted – that's all she needed to do for this nightmare to be over. She stood on her knees – oh, he probably loved that – and shuffled towards him, only to find his out stretched palm blocking my way. He clenched all but one finger, which wagged in front of my nose.

" _Exactly_ like you did to that boy," he clarified.

Now more than one cheek was burning. She should be angry, but her first emotion was shame. In the video she was blindfolded … and naked. Well, it's not like he hasn't already seen it all on the video, she tried to reason, but she knew it wasn't the same.

She had just come from work, which meant she had quite a bit to take off – or so she thought, until she removed the work jacket and her shoes. Already she had reached the point of humiliation, way past the mark that two professional colleagues should cross. Taking off her shirt, showing Shawn her bra by her own actions, would not be something either of them could return from. "This is wrong," she thought as she undid the top button. The thought repeated itself with each button. "This is wrong … This is wrong … This is wrong …"

Plain light blue, the kind that covered each boob very well but not the cleavage. She set the shirt down on top of her jacket and immediately began working on her skirt. Why wasn't she hesitating more?

She noticed his gaze. He didn't seem to mind that she wasn't in something sexier. In fact, the humiliation of being forced to do this was probably hgihlighted by wearing whatever she had on. Yet there was something more in his gaze. Perhaps she imagined it – perhaps she needed it to make it through this – but she thought his gaze was as caring as it was lustful.

Juliette almost didn't notice when she managed to pull her skirt off without standing up. Somehow, it was prefunctionary, as though she was meant to do it. But no, this was still wrong, and his lust doesn't mean she should be getting hot.

Why was she getting hot?

Again, with far less hesitation than she should have, she reached for her bra, but Shawn forestalled her with a motion of his hand. It was that moment, that casual display of authority over her, that did it for Juliette. She could no longer deny why she was hot – or why her panties were wet.

She didn't know he carried a pocket knife, but even as she tensed up she felt an innate trust for it in his hand. Shawn pressed it against her skin and moved it gently along. Sharper than she expected, it slid through her bra with little effort. Her hard-earned paycheck simply dropped to the ground in a worthless mess.

Not the largest or most perfect breasts, but Shawn didn't look like he was complaining. Juliette wouldn't have complained either, if he did what she knew he wanted to do, to grope them, play with them … abuse them …

Yet he controlled himself and forced his attention to her panties. They were also light blue, of course, and … Well, part of it was a little darker.

"Well, well Detective O'Hara," Shawn murmured. "Looks like this wasn't as unwanted as you have me believe."

It was hard to argue. It was one thing when a woman became wet after physical stimulation. It was another when she did so simply because she was forced to undress.

The panties were sliced off and tossed into a separate discard pile with the bra. As part of joining the sorrority, she had to shave her little pussy, make it hairless. Luckily, they only recorded shaving those that failed to show up for inspection shaved, and Juliette was good at following orders (as she was now showing). Now some of it had grown back in a neat little lawn, because Juliette hadn't decided how she like it yet.

Again, showing ridiculous self-control she wouldn't have thought possible of him, Shawn stood up without molesting her, and simply tapped his belt buck once more. Juliette had to undo the buckle herself, undo the jean button, pull down the zipper, and move the boxers beneath out of the way.

Juliette had seen dicks before. She had no reason to be in awe of this one. It was a healthy six inches, though quite a bit thicker than normal in her experience. Nonetheless, there was something impressive about how it was just shoved in her face, expecting and demanding her attention.

Oh, the sorrority left her with one skill. They made sure that final test was as good as possible for their brother fraternity. Now Juliette made it as good as possible for Shawn.

Her blackmailer.

After she had begun, she felt his manhood grow even larger. Unbelievable; having a woman naked before him, an authority figure kneeling and humiliated in front of him, was not kinky enough to make Shawn Spencer fully erect. Juliette began working hard with both her mouth and hand, determined to show him that she was something worth getting excited about.

It took too long. He shouldn't have been able to hold on for that long, especially with him assisting her, partially forcing his cock down her throat. He wasn't as harsh as he couldd be, but Juliette still had a war between dread for whenever that happened and determination to use it to make him cum.

When he did finally finish, it was, of course, on his own terms. He pulled out of her mouth with perfect timing and hosed down her pretty cop face. Juliette kneeled there for a time, stunned. She hadn't realized until it stopped, but she wanted it to keep going. The kink of the situation had barely gotten Shawn excited without some physical stimulation, but Juliette hadn't really been touched yet and she felt desperate for release.

That bastard, she thought, though with the same loving tone she thought of him as a smartass.

"Don't wipe that off your face," Shawn ordered. "Keep it that way until you get home. Take a picture of it, send it to me. Then you may clean up."

Juliette nodded, eyes on his feet. "Yes, Master."

Then he dismissed her. She had to take all her clothes – including the underwear he destroyed. As if she needed another reminded, the panties were still soaked. She drove home in almost a fuge. If she encountered anyone she knew, she was supposed to tell them that she was just playing sex games with someone without saying who. At home, she simply dropped all her clothes at the door, walked to the bathroom, then remembered the photo she had to take, did so, and then masturbated.

She couldn't believe she was still so hot. It took less than a minute.

Then, in the shower, she cried. It hit her that she had lied to herself. She had to believe it was a one-time thing to make it through this time, but now she knew. Now she knew this was her life now. Shawn had hold over her now … and she didn't think it was just the blackmail.

Juliette cried.


End file.
